


I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine (it's not a problem)

by AnaliseGrey



Series: It's Just a Challenge [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altered State of Mind, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hypothermia, Lance has a bit of a mouth on him, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro is not ok, Sickfic, Torture, accidental injury, brief/passing mention of throwing up, but he likes to pretend, heatstroke, non-consensual intoxication, non-consensual medical treatment, random giant space creatures, threatened amputation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-02-27 08:36:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: Shiro's definition of 'ok' doesn't always match the definition his team uses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Um...this might be a '5 times+1' fic...except it may end up being more than 5 times, and I haven't thought of the +1 yet. But yeah. 
> 
> Shiro has this tendency to say he's ok or fine when he's obviously not. His team catches on quick, and tries to call him on his nonsense when they can.
> 
> Keep an eye on ratings/warnings, as they may change as the fic progresses.
> 
> This whole glorious mess is unbeta-ed, so...please be kind?

Shiro knew better. Really, he did, but some instincts were just ingrained so deeply into his brain that nothing short of physical restraint was going to stop him.

So even though he knew Pidge was perfectly capable of defending herself, and he had in fact been the one training her in hand-to-hand combat, watching her face off against an enemy easily twice her size made Shiro’s hackles rise.

Pidge was in a partial crouch, bayard ready in her hand as the creature came at her. They’d been responding to one of the distress signals the castle had picked up in their travels; it turned out that the settlement it was broadcasting from had been cleared out long ago, though whether that was by choice or by Galran imperative was still unknown. The paladins hadn’t exactly been anticipating the local wildlife, though, and Shiro knew it was something that was going to show up soon in a training session.

“Why do all the creatures we find on planets have to be so _big_?” The sounds of fighting and panting breath came over Lance’s comm, with a grumbling agreement from Hunk. The creatures came up almost to Shiro’s shoulders, dwarfing most of the paladins, their bulk making them even more formidable. They’d managed to split the paladins up, breaking them into smaller, more easily hunted groups. In between running and fighting the beasts, they were all trying to get back to where they’d parked the lions nearby, but it was difficult in the unfamiliar wooded terrain.

“We’re almost back- how’re you two doing?” Keith also sounded out of breath, but Shiro was glad most of them were close to the safety of the lions. Now he just had to get him and Pidge away from the last of the creatures from their group.

The creature launched itself at Pidge, and she darted forward, ducking underneath it, scoring a hit with her bayard along it’s stomach. The smell of singed fur burst into the air as the creature roared its anger and pain, and instead of slowing down, seemed to speed up in it’s rage, hitting the ground and pivoting around to turn on Pidge, who hadn’t made it back to her feet yet.

A full-color image of Pidge, sliced open and dead, flashed through Shiro’s mind, and he was moving before Pidge had a chance to react, intercepting the beast’s trajectory and body-checking it out of the way. He ended up in a heap on top of it, but not for long. It snarled under him and heaved up, tossing him aside like he weighed nothing. Shiro tumbled into a controlled roll and turned, focus narrowing down to the creature, and stopping it by any means necessary.

The creature was paused, hunkered down to pounce at Pidge, and Shiro came up behind it, grabbed its tail and pulled as hard as he could. The creature howled, swiveling around unnaturally fast, and batted at Shiro with a huge paw, sending him flying. His short flight was stopped abruptly by a tree, air forced from his lungs by the impact as he fell; landing awkwardly, he could feel something in his right knee _give_. He was on the ground with a choked scream before the pain had even properly registered past the shock of impact. He could hear the voices of the other paladins rise in concern through his helmet, but he didn’t have time for that. The creature was coming for him, knowing he was down, and an easier target. Well, he had a surprise left for the creature. Hauling himself to his feet, he tried to stand, but his knee refused to hold. Growling in frustration, he balanced on his left leg instead and waited, letting the creature race towards him. At the last moment, he activated his arm and dodged down and to the side, letting the creature’s momentum carry it along while he fought to hold his arm still. The force of its movement carried it a little further, but by the time it came to a stop on the ground a few feet away, Shiro knew it was done. He took a moment to gather himself, turning his arm off and trying to wipe some of the gore that had burned onto it off onto the grass, before starting to lever himself up again.

“Shiro, what are you doing?”

Shiro paused halfway back to his feet, looked up at Pidge’s concerned question as she picked her way over to him.

“I’m getting up? We still need to get back to the lions. It’s not safe.”

Pidge snorted, ducking down to wedge herself up under his right arm and snaked an arm around Shiro’s waist, taking some of his weight and helping him balance. “Yeah, I get that, but maybe don’t try to walk on your busted knee before you get it checked out?”

“It’s fine, I just twisted it a little when I fell.”

The look Pidge threw him was so thoroughly unimpressed, Shiro felt a bit sheepish, warmth rising to his face.

“And if I let go of you right now, you’d probably try to just walk it off on your way back to the lion, wouldn’t you?”

“Um…no?”

Rolling her eyes, Pidge shook her head, muttering under her breath about stupid flyboys as she started to lead the two of them back in the direction of the lions. “We’ll get Coran to take a look at you, then we’ll pop you into a pod if necessary. If it’s just your knee, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“No, Pidge, really, it’s fine, I just-” Pidge gave him a considering look, then let go of him. A yelp of pain and an undignified tumble later, and Shiro was on the ground again, looking up at Pidge. Raising an eyebrow, Pidge looked down at him, her arms crossed.

Shiro considered a moment, then sighed, accepting defeat.

“Yeah, ok, maybe Coran should take a look.”

With a pleased look on her face, Pidge helped him back up, and they headed towards the lions and the rest of the paladins; and if Shiro thought the fuss was unnecessary, well, he kept that to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! My first WIP. I usually only post things that are complete, but I've got the first chapter done, and don't want to wait while I write the rest. So, I will post the first chapter now and post the others as I complete them. I am easily motivated by comments and kudos, so if you like what you read, feel free to send encouragement :)
> 
> Wanna flail about superheroes and other nonsense with me? Come find me on Tumblr at KitKatCabbit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d learned to compromise. Never with the Galra, they could fuck right off, but he’d had to learn to compromise with himself. At the start, he’d thought he would be tough. Strong. And he was, to a certain extent. All seniors at the Garrison had to go through POW and anti-interrogation training; he could remember he’d thought it was ridiculous at the time that they’d made him do it. He was going to a barren moon with two scientists to look at ice. What could possibly happen? Even in the small, quiet part of his mind that asked _what if?_ he hadn’t thought it would ever be an issue.
> 
> He’d thought he was ready.
> 
> None of his training had prepared him for the reality of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. So, this sort of took off on it's own. I was merely the conduit. Un-beta'd so be kind, please.

Shiro had learned a lot since going to space for the Kerberos mission. 

He’d learned that Matt was as much of a nerd as he was, though for Star Wars instead of Shiro’s preferred Star Trek.

He’d learned Commander Holt had as wicked a sense of humor as his son did, even if he was generally quieter about it.

And he’d definitely learned a lot during what he referred to, at least in his own mind, as ‘his year abroad’. (He’d also learned to keep that to himself. The one time he’d said it to Keith in jest, the look on Keith’s face had been so stricken Shiro had felt awful about it the rest of the day.)

He’d learned to compromise. Never with the Galra, they could fuck right off, but he’d had to learn to compromise with himself. At the start, he’d thought he would be tough. Strong. And he was, to a certain extent. All seniors at the Garrison had to go through POW and anti-interrogation training; he could remember he’d thought it was ridiculous at the time that they’d made him do it. He was going to a barren moon, with two scientists, to look at ice. What could possibly happen? Even in the small, quiet part of his mind that asked  _ what if? _  he hadn’t thought it would ever be an issue.

He’d thought he was ready.

None of his training had prepared him for the reality of it.

The first compromise he’d come to with himself was that it was okay to scream. Initially, he hadn’t wanted to give the interrogators the satisfaction, clenching his jaw shut tight enough it made his teeth ache. After the first few sessions with them, though, he’d made his first concession. Screaming was okay- sometimes it was the only way to make it through; he’d be damned if he’d beg, though. He’d scream, shout, curse in every language he knew, hell, he’d cry if he had to, but he would never beg. He refused.

It was the first internal compromise of many, and definitely one of the few that bothered him the least for having had to make it.

Through the haze of pain he was currently in, he was glad he’d had the foresight to make it. Very clever of past-him, really.

Another jolt of bright electric agony raced up his right arm from the inhibitor clamped around his metal arm, and he gave in against the urge to scream as it arced up through his shoulders and into his head, fingers of purple lightning licking up and making his brain feel like it was melting. It felt like it went on forever-  _ it always felt like forever _ \- before it abruptly stopped, the echo of the pain still ringing through him as he fell back, panting, to the table he was restrained to.

“If you tell me where you hid the lion, this would stop. You suffer needlessly. I will get the information I seek one way or another, why do you fight?”

Shiro let his head loll over to face the Druid who was interrogating him. Snarling, Shiro let loose with a stream of low-Galran invective that would have made a gladiator blush. There was a brief pause, the Druid’s masked head tilting to the side in consideration, then it’s hand reached out, claw tips lightly resting on the inhibitor cuff, and the whole process started over again.

Minutes later- hours later, Shiro wasn’t sure- the Druid had released the restraints and instructed the waiting sentries to take him back to the cell block for the night; they’d be back to work on him again soon. Shiro didn’t have the energy to try to fight as they grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out, his legs unable to support him.

Shiro lost time, fading in and out on the trip back to the cell block, but he pulled himself together with a force of will as they reached the door to the cell. One of the sentries opened the door, and the pair of them unceremoniously tossed him in. He tried to roll into it, but his body wouldn’t cooperate and he ended up in a heap just inside the door as it slammed shut behind him.

“Shiro!”

The sound of movement was quickly followed by the sight of Lance leaning over him, face a mask of worry. Lance didn’t look too worse for wear, and didn’t seem to have gained any extra bruises or cuts since Shiro had last seen him- Shiro would grab onto that mercy with both hands. If the Druid was focused on him, maybe they’d leave Lance alone long enough for the other paladins and the Alteans to find them and rescue them. He just had to keep his mouth shut about his lion until then.

“Lance-” Shiro grimaced at the sound of his own voice, rough and barely there. His throat hurt now that he had the chance to think about it. Screaming helped to cope in the short-term, but soon he might not have a voice left to do it with.

“Shit, Shiro, are you...well, you’re not okay, that’s a stupid question of course you’re not okay. But are you alright? Well...you know what I mean.” Lance’s hands fluttered around Shiro, unsure of where it was okay to touch.

“Can you help me sit up?”

Lance’s resolve seemed to solidify with the direct request, and he crouched down to try to get under Shiro’s right arm to help shift him up. Surprising them both, Shiro let out an involuntary cry of pain as Lance tried to lever Shiro’s arm up. Except that it would have meant dropping Shiro on the ground again, Lance almost let go, paling and lips pressing together before quickly shifting around behind Shiro’s back and getting up under both armpits to help pull him up so Shiro didn’t have to move so much. Sliding Shiro over to the wall to the side of the door, Lance helped prop him up, then settled next to him so Shiro could lean against him if he wanted.

Shiro just sat there a moment, head tilted back against the cold metal wall, eyes closed, controlling his breathing as best he could. That...ok that had sucked. Shiro wasn’t entirely sure what the Druid had done other than it it was probably the same brand of magic Haggar used. That and it fucking hurt. It also looked like it was going to be a bitch for him to move for the near future, which, again, sucked.

Forcing his eyes open, Shiro glanced over at Lance. Lance had his head down staring at his hands in his lap, picking at part of the ripped undersuit he still had on. Both their armors were gone at this point, and Shiro was starting to feel the chill of the room. He knew Blue’s affinity to cold likely meant that Lance didn’t feel it as much, but he sure did.

Shiro tried to speak, but nothing came out. Frowning, he coughed, trying to clear his throat only for the rough feeling from before to flare up into a solid burn.

“Oh! Water...hold on, we’ve got…” Lance scrambled off to the other side of the cell to where the sleeping benches were and returned a moment later with water packets. They didn’t have straws the way the Altean versions did, and Shiro idly wondered if it was because the Galra had experience with wily prisoners using the straws for unsanctioned purposes, or if it was just a difference in design theory between the cultures. Maybe both?

It took a second for Shiro to realize that Lance was in front of him, holding out a water packet to him. Dredging up a smile that Shiro was pretty sure wouldn’t have convinced anyone of anything, he forced his left arm up to grab the water from Lance. It still hurt, but if he breathed through it, it was manageable. Shiro wasn’t honestly sure he could lift his right arm if he tried, and from what he’d seen, his legs weren’t quite with the program right now either. If the chance to run came, he’d have to find a way to convince Lance to take it and go, but that was easier said than done.

“Um…”

Shiro blinked, awareness focusing back to Lance who was now seated in front of him cross-legged. Lance reached out and took the water packet back, opening the little built in spout on the side before hesitating a moment, then lifting the packet up to Shiro’s lips for him.

Shiro tilted his head forward catching the spout between his lips with effort and took a draw, savoring the feel of the water on his throat. It was room-temperature, and had a mild plasticy flavor, but it was still wonderful. He took a few more sips before pulling off and leaning his head back against the wall. “Thanks, Lance.”

“No problem.”

Shiro let his eyes slide shut again for a moment, hearing Lance get up and go back over to where the sleeping benches were, likely to put the unused water away. It made something in Shiro’s chest clench unpleasantly that it would occur to Lance to ration water. It was such a difference from the care-free young cadet that he’d first met all those months ago. Not that Lance wasn’t still young, they all were. Hell, even _he_ was young, technically, though he tried not to think about that. He just felt so old sometimes-

The silence around him registered, and he cracked an eye open again to look over at Lance who was now sitting next to him again, pressed together enough that Shiro could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

“Are you okay?”

Lance turned to Shiro, face incredulous.

“What?”

Shiro gritted his teeth and pushed himself more upright from where he’d been slouching against the wall. “I asked if you were okay. They didn’t do anything to you while I was gone, did they?”

If it were possible, Lance’s eyebrows climbed higher.

“Am I...did...are you fucking  _ serious _ ? Am  _ I  _ okay, he asks. Yeah, I’m fine, they didn’t so much as open the door while you were gone- but seriously, what? You were gone for, like...hours, Shiro, and you’re...and you ask if  _ I’m _ okay?”

Shiro shrugged without thinking it through and winced at the resulting twinge through his shoulders- it still felt like tiny zaps were running up and down his muscles, and there was a constant unpleasant low-level buzz from the inhibitor cuff, but overall...well the pain would fade and he’d get on with things. It’s what he did.

“It’s not permanent damage, Lance, I’m fine. It’ll wear off.” And while they were on the topic, “My muscles aren’t all firing right, though, so if you get the chance to run before the others get here, you take it.”

“The fuck I will.”

It was Shiro’s turn to look incredulous. “What?”

“I said the fuck I will. If you think for one quiznacking instant that I’m...that I’m  _ leaving  _ you here, leaving you here  _ with them _ to just...do whatever the hell they want to you, because...because  _ why _ , exactly, Shiro?”

Shiro had seen Lance upset, worried, annoyed- but not really mad. Lance’s emotions tended towards cheerful, and when he was upset it always seemed to blow over like a summer storm, furious but fast. Now, though, Lance was  _ incensed _ , fists clenched, body shaking in contained fury; Lance got up and started pacing around the cell, scowling.

Okay, this was not what Shiro had intended. Oops.

“Look, Lance-”

Lance stopped mid-pace and whirled on Shiro, eyes flashing, pointer finger jabbing at Shiro.

“ _ No _ . Nonono. No, you don’t get to ‘look, Lance’ me. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Mr. ‘The Black Paladin is the leader and in charge and must take hits for everyone’ Shirogane. If there’s a chance to run, I’m not leaving without you. I can’t. I _won't_. Please don’t ask me to.”

Lance seemed to deflate, tension running out of him, and he came back over to flop down next to Shiro, bumping his shoulder gently against Shiro’s.

“You wouldn’t leave one of us behind. We’re not leaving you behind either. The others will get here soon, kick everyone’s butt, and bust us out. Why don’t you try to rest in the meantime. You’ll need your energy for kicking ass, and you’re all out of bubble gum.”

Shiro snorted, letting his eyes fall shut again as he leaned over to rest his head on Lance’s shoulder. “I don’t think you got that right.”

“Pfft.” Lance shifted and a moment later Shiro sighed,relaxing into the warmth from Lance draping his arm over Shiro’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Shiro. Obviously I got it right.”

Shiro hummed in agreement before letting himself pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And chapter 2! Not sure if other chapters will write themselves as easily as this one did (I feel like I was merely on for the ride as it wrote itself), but I can hope, right?
> 
> As always, I subsist on a diet of coffee, comments, and kudos (and alliteration, it seems). 
> 
> If you feel like flailing about these dorks (and also the MCU), feel free to hit me up on Tumblr at kitkatcabbit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro stretched as he got out of bed and stifled a groan at the unpleasant ache in his joints and the light throb in his head, the tickle in his throat that promised a cough sooner rather than later.  
> He was _not_ sick.  
>  Or at least not sick enough for him to be willing to admit it.

Back on Earth, before the Kerberos mission, Shiro had always been relatively healthy.

He’d caught some of the colds that went around, same as everyone, but he'd never had any major illness. When the flu had gone around the Garrison campus his sophomore year, he had been pressed into service in the infirmary because he was one of the few who hadn’t gotten sick. On the whole, his immune system had been pretty sturdy.

That had changed since his year with the Galra.

Shiro couldn’t really pinpoint the reasons, though he had suspicions. A year of constant high-level stress (both physical and mental), and lack of proper and sufficient nutrition likely had a lot to do with it. That wasn’t even touching on the still-constant stress and lack of sleep. With all that combined, it wasn’t a shock to him that he wore down easily, and that his immune system might be compromised.

Shiro stretched as he got out of bed and stifled a groan at the unpleasant ache in his joints and the light throb in his head; there was a tickle in his throat that promised a cough sooner rather than later.

He was  _ not  _ sick.

Or at least not sick enough for him to be willing to admit it.

Ignoring his body’s protests, Shiro got up and got dressed in his workout gear to go for his morning run. He usually enjoyed it, using the time to wake up, get his thoughts in order, and have some time just for him. Most of his day was spent interacting with the others, and while he didn’t mind that so much, having something that was just for him was...nice; calming even.

Today though, it was a struggle. He had trouble hitting his stride, making himself keep going even when he just wanted to stop and curl up on the floor to sleep. Not even ten minutes in, he had to pause and lean against the wall as a hitch in his breathing turned into a series of painful coughs that he could feel through his chest and up into his shoulders.

Bent over, hands on his knees while he tried to catch his breath, Shiro didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind him.

“Good morning, number one!”

Shiro jumped, startled, whirling to face where Coran was coming down the hallway, but his gasp of surprise turned into another painful coughing fit. As he got closer, Coran’s friendly smile turned to a look of concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m...I’m fine.” Shiro focused on catching his breath. “Just surprised me is all.”

“Mmhmm. Well then, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind lending me a hand for a few ticks, then? I know this is when you usually get your run in, but the secondary flaxons are causing trouble in the spatial network again, and fixing it is much easier with an extra set of hands.”

Shiro blinked. “Uh...sure?”

“Splendid!” Coran continued in the direction he’d been headed, and Shiro followed him.

A short while later found the two of them in one of the engine rooms, with a wall panel pulled off, elbow-deep in wiring.

“Now, if you just hold that steady for me, I should be able to fix this in two shakes of a wahlump’s tail!”

Shiro concentrated on holding the two wires together for Coran to solder, but despite his best efforts, his mind kept wandering. Wandering to how awful he felt, how tired he was, how it was barely 7am Castle time, and there was still the whole day ahead, and how was he going to manage meals, training, strategy meetings with Allura and Coran, when just standing up felt  _ exhausting _ , and-

“Number one?”

Shiro blinked, suddenly aware again of what his hands were doing, to find he’d pulled one of the wires almost entirely out of alignment.

“Sorry, I’ll just-” Shiro moved to try to put the wire back where it belonged only to have Coran’s hand gently but firmly close over his wrist and stop him.

“Just because this is easier with more hands doesn’t mean it’s necessary. If you’re not feeling well, you can go back to your room to lay down, nobody would think any less of you.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed in mild irritation.

“I’m fine, just distracted. I can help. No reason not to make things easier where we can.”

Coran’s look of concern softened, but he didn’t let go of Shiro’s wrist.

“Shiro.”

Shiro could practically feel the gentleness in Coran’s voice as a physical thing, and it took an effort not to flinch back from it.

“You do understand that when we tell the other paladins that it’s alright not to be okay all of the time, that we’re including you as well?”

Shiro pursed his lips, wanting to argue, but he was just so  _ tired _ . So instead, he sighed, and nodded. “I...might be feeling a little under the weather.”

“I’m going to assume that turn of phrase means you’re not at your best, and as the Princess’s second, I order you to go back to bed and rest. When I’ve fixed this, I’ll be by with some felthorpe tea, guaranteed to fix you right up!”

Despite himself, Shiro felt the corners of his mouth tug up into a small smile.

“Thanks, Coran.”

“Think nothing of it, number one! Now, off you go! Lots of rest! You humans don’t have the strong constitution we Alteans have…”

As Shiro left the room, he could still hear Coran muttering about Altean heartiness and various tea recipes. He still refused to say he was sick, but well, maybe some rest wouldn’t hurt him.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not...the chapter I had intended to write next.  
> But, well- I have a cold. So now Shiro does, too. Oops?  
> This one didn't come as easily as the last one (I'm not sure *any* of my writing has ever come as easily as the last chapter), but I'm not aiming for perfect, I'm aiming for finished. Having never written anything where I posted before the whole thing was done, this is both a frightening and invigorating experience. Thanks to those of you who've subscribed to this work so far- you're helping motivate me more than you know :)  
> And as always, if you feel like flailing about these space kids with me on Tumblr, you can find me at [KitKatCabbit](http://kitkatcabbit.tumblr.com/).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where. Is. My. Paladin.”  
>  _He knew that voice, though he’d never heard it sound like that before, powerful, commanding, angry. The voice was iron wrapped in starlight, the twinkles touching off against the inside of his eyelids and- oh- had he closed his eyes again?_

“ _ Where. Is. My. Paladin. _ ”

He knew that voice, though he’d never heard it sound like that before, powerful, commanding, angry. The voice was iron wrapped in starlight, the twinkles touching off against the inside of his eyelids and- oh- had he closed his eyes again?

Shiro tried to pull his thoughts together, but they were slow and syrupy, errant, like wandering sheep though the meadow of his mind. He sighed- meadows were nice; the grass was soft under his hands, the air smelled sweet, the sun warming him where he lay-

“What did you  _ do  _ to him?”

The voice again, closer now, and it sounded  _ so  _ angry, like an oncoming storm, dark clouds rolling in, a force of nature, danger inherent in the approach. He didn’t like that as much as the meadow- not at all. 

“Princess, we were only trying to help. He has many broken connections, and we were attempting to fix them; however, human physiology differs from what we’re used to. He should recover fully within a few vargas.”

He tried to curl in to himself, away from the disruption, but his body wouldn’t move how he wanted. Like his thoughts, his limbs seemed to move in slow-motion, clumsy. He finally managed to tip over onto his side, but that was as far as he got before his thoughts skittered off again.

“Shiro, can you hear me?”

That was so much better, the voice softer, gentle as a spring breeze. Shiro rumbled happily in his chest at the sensation of it. He could swear he felt it brush over his skin, even through his clothes, which was weird, but nice. 

A light touch on his shoulder, and he arched up into the sensation like a cat, a contented sound spilling out through his lips. That- wow that felt  _ amazing, _ like a sparkler or soda fizz under his skin. He was effervescent, and thought maybe the hand on his shoulder was the only thing holding him together, keeping him from floating away like a soap bubble. 

A kitten-soft sigh, and the hand on his shoulder shifted, along with another, to worm under him, and he let out a pleased hum as the fizzy feeling followed the touches.

“Shiro, I’m going to pick you up, now; we need to get you back to the ship.”

The hands felt for a moment that they were getting bigger, and then Shiro was being lifted in a bridal carry. He rolled inward slightly before settling against the solid but soft warmth of the chest of the person carrying him, and a small worm of memory worked its way out from under the fog in his mind. A scent, sweet, almost fruity, that he recognized.

“‘llura?”

The hands holding him tightened a moment, holding him closer before loosening again.

“Yes, Shiro. How are you feeling?”

Shiro tried to answer, he really did, but there was just so  _ much _ , how was he supposed to answer that?

“Shiro?”

“I feel... _ everything… _ ”

He could in fact practically feel the wave of dismay that rolled off Allura as she carried him, and with a concerted effort, he cracked his eyes open to look up at her. She was in her diplomatic gown,but had obviously shifted because she was noticeably bigger than him, and was carrying him easily. The look on her face- well, he was glad it wasn’t aimed at him, and that thought sobered him, if only a bit. She looked a combination of angry, determined, and ready to destroy anyone in her way. She also looked tense. She shouldn’t be tense, though, everything was ok, everything was  _ great _ ,  _ he  _ felt great, why did she look so upset? Shiro tried to lift an arm, and only succeeded part way, flopping the hand curled between his stomach and Allura’s chest at her, which got her to glance down at him as she continued to stalk forward.

“Yes, Shiro, what is it?”

“‘m fine, ‘llura, everything’s fine, don’ be upset.”

He frowned a bit, despite himself. Was he slurring?.

Allura snorted, a look of fond exasperation on her face when she looked down at him next. 

“You are most assuredly  _ not  _ fine. What you are is  _ very  _ intoxicated, which we shall deal with when we reach the castle. Why don’t you close your eyes and rest. We will be there shortly.”

Shiro wanted to argue for a brief moment, his desire to comfort Allura, calm her, almost overwhelming everything else he was feeling. A wave of the placid joy and peace he was only now starting to realize didn’t feel like  _ him  _ crashed over him again, and before he knew it, he was dragged under, the solid comforting presence of Allura’s touch the last thing he felt before he was swept away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter.
> 
> It didn't go at all as I intended, and has a different feel from the other chapters. It's not so harsh on Shiro in the immediate, though I imagine he won't be thrilled later when he sobers up and realizes what's happened.
> 
> Only Keith and Hunk left to go for the regular chapters. Keith I expected to be a pain, but Hunk...you're usually so much easier to work with, what's going on?
> 
> Feel free to come flail at me about these guys on Tumblr at [KitKatCabbit](kitkatcabbit.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twin suns of Drexis II were brutal.  
> The planet Shiro and Keith had landed on was largely desert, with mountains scattered across the landscape. The Galra encampment they were after was nestled in the foothills of one of the mountain clusters; they’d left their lions miles away in the shadow of a different cluster, having approached at night to try to cover their arrival. They’d managed to sneak into the base before the suns had risen, and had almost made it back out unnoticed.
> 
> It was pure bad luck that one of the few flesh-and-blood Galra on base had picked a bad moment to need a drink of water.

The twin suns of Drexis II were brutal. 

The planet Shiro and Keith had landed on was largely desert, with mountains scattered across the landscape. The Galra encampment they were after was nestled in the foothills of one of the mountain clusters; they’d left their lions miles away in the shadow of a different cluster, having approached at night to try to cover their arrival. They’d managed to sneak into the base before the suns had risen, and had almost made it back out unnoticed. 

It was pure bad luck that one of the few flesh-and-blood Galra on base had picked a bad moment to need a drink of water.

The alarm had been raised, and they’d fought their way back out of the base. They got away, but their timeline had shifted forward. They were supposed to be in and out before dawn, since the darkness would have made it easier to move unnoticed, but it seemed that ship had sailed.

Now Shiro and Keith were trudging as speedily as they could back to their lions. Both their jet packs had taken damage during the fight, so they couldn’t just fly back, and the sand of the desert was slowing them down and making the walk more difficult. 

Then there was the damage to Shiro’s suit. 

He’d gone into hand-to-hand against one of the Galra officers, and they’d done a lot of damage with their claws before Shiro had subdued them. He had some deeper scratches that would need attention, but most of the damage itself had been taken by the armor. That was good for him, but it wasn’t great for the climate-control aspect of the armor.

They were now little more than halfway back to the lions, but the suns were much higher in the sky than they’d anticipated having to deal with. Shiro had already taken his helmet off so he could breathe a bit easier in the heat, and was mostly focusing on watching Keith ahead of him so he wouldn’t have to focus on how miserable he was. He was so focused on Keith that when Shiro stumbled and fell, it came as something of a surprise to them both.

Keith immediately stopped and turned around to help Shiro up.

“Are you ok, what happened?”

Shiro ran a hand through his hair, and shook his head, taking Keith’s hand to get back to his feet. 

“Not sure, I think I feel ok, now, though. We should keep going. We’ve got a bit to go yet, and we don’t want to get caught out here, it’s too open; no cover.”

Keith eyed him speculatively, and didn’t let go of Shiro’s hand immediately.

“Are you sure you’re ok? You’re looking a bit...red.”

Shiro huffed in annoyance, and pulled his hand back, rolling his shoulders before straightening up and pushing past Keith to start moving again.

“Of course I’m red. It’s hot out, and I’m exerting myself. You’re not exactly fresh as a flower either, you know.”

Shiro could practically  _ feel  _ the scowl Keith was leveling at his back, but he didn’t especially care. He was hot, his legs were getting tired from slogging through sand, and he swore he could feel the grains of sand grinding in his metal arm. He just wanted to get back to his lion, get back to the Castle, and drown his sorrows in a nice cool shower and about 20 water packets.

A sigh sounded from behind him, and he could hear Keith start following along behind him.

They walked in silence for another few dobashes, just the hissing of the wind and the sound of them moving through the sand disturbing the quiet. The suns were now almost directly overhead. Draxis II was small and relatively close to its two stars; its rotation cycle was shorter than a standard Earth day. Shiro could feel his skin starting to prickle uncomfortably, and knew he should maybe put his helmet back on, if only to protect himself from sunburn, but then he’d be even hotter, and just the thought made his stomach turn.

“Shiro.”

Shiro started to turn to see what Keith wanted, but before he knew it, he was on the ground, blinking confusedly up at the sky. A tic later, Keith’s head blocked out some of the light, his face pinched in concern. Shiro opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t sure what was going to come out. 

“I swear to god, if you say you’re ‘fine’, I will  _ punch  _ you.”

Shiro closed his mouth and tried to think of something else to say, but his mind was frustratingly blank; thinking was harder than it should have been. 

“You’re not sweating.”

Shiro blinked up at Keith. “What?”

Keith brushed his gloved fingers through Shiro’s hair, moving it up and away from Shiro’s forehead.

“You’re not sweating. I think you’ve got sunstroke, or heat stroke, or whatever it’s called. It’s dangerous. We have to get you out of the sun.”

Shiro snorted, and winced at the stab of pain that went through his head. “And how do we do that? We’re in a desert. No shade til we get to the lions. We just have to keep going. Help me up.”

Keith looked decidedly unhappy, but Shiro was right. It was nothing but open sand around them. Shiro thought that if they kept going, they would soon be able to see the lions glint on the horizon, but in all honesty, he’d lost track of how long they’d been walking.

“Here.” There was a ripping noise and tugging sensation near his chest, and something landed on top of Shiro’s head. He looked up, and saw Keith had ripped out part of Shiro’s undersuit from beneath Shiro’s busted chest plate. 

“It’s not perfect, but maybe it’ll help keep the suns from beating directly onto your head.” Keith reached down and gripped at Shiro’s arm and heaved, pulling Shiro swayingly to his feet.

“Do you need to hold onto me?”

Shiro considered saying no, but one look at Keith’s expression made him reconsider.

“Probably, yeah.”

“Right.”

Keith pulled Shiro’s metal arm over his shoulders and got them walking again. Shiro tried to keep his eyes on the horizon and watching for the lions, but soon all of his concentration was going to putting one foot in front of the other. His lips felt dry and cracked, and his head was killing him. Shiro was also pretty sure that the only thing keeping him upright was Keith’s arm around his waist and the tight grip he had on Shiro’s metal wrist.

“Almost there, Shiro, c’mon, we can do it.”

Looking up through the fringe of his bangs, Shiro could see the lions, a lot closer than he’d realized. When had they gotten that close?

“Just need to get you inside. I think Black’ll be able to do most of it to get you back to the Castle. Her environmental systems should help a bit to start, but you’re going to need help when we get back.”

Shiro didn’t really remember the last bit of the trek to the lions. He could remember the throbbing in his head, the way his heart felt like it was racing and about to burst from his chest, but then time seemed to skip.

*blink* and Keith was helping him into the pilot’s chair of the black lion.

*blink* and he was throwing up part of an emergency water pouch Keith had gotten him to drink.

*blink* and somehow they were back at the Castle, because Coran was lifting him from the pilot’s chair and carrying him somewhere.

Before he blinked out again, Shiro caught sight of Keith, walking behind Coran. 

Keith was ok, if anxious-looking; everything else was incidental.

With that settled, Shiro let himself drift into the darkness that threatened to overtake him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter! Only Hunk and the +1 left!
> 
> Feel free to send encouragement in the form of kudos and comments, and come say hi to me on tumblr at kitkatcabbit. We can yell about these guys together.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro only felt warm when he was fighting.
> 
> Between the adrenaline and the exertion, fighting for his life was a great way to stay warm. Once that had all faded, and he was back in the holding cells, he was never warm enough. Most of the others kept as gladiators and fighters had fur like the Galra, or were more resistant to the temperatures; they also had the benefit of being grouped together, and could huddle for warmth. Shiro, as Champion, had the supposed ‘privilege’ of having his own cell. He supposed it was safer, but it could also be lonely. It was never cold enough to be dangerous, but he was always miserable, and the constant chill wore at him. Sometimes it was helpful, if he’d been banged up in a fight but not badly enough to need healing; the cool walls could feel nice over bruises. Most of the time if he wasn’t sore from fighting, he was sore from shivering.

_ Shiro only felt warm when he was fighting. _

_ Between the adrenaline and the exertion, fighting for his life was a great way to stay warm. Once that had all faded, and he was back in the holding cells, he was never warm enough. Most of the others kept as gladiators and fighters had fur like the Galra, or were more resistant to the temperatures; they also had the benefit of being grouped together, and could huddle for warmth. Shiro, as Champion, had the supposed ‘privilege’ of having his own cell. He supposed it was safer, but it could also be lonely. It was never cold enough to be dangerous, but he was always miserable, and the constant chill wore at him. Sometimes it was helpful, if he’d been banged up in a fight but not badly enough to need healing; the cool walls could feel nice over bruises. Most of the time if he wasn’t sore from fighting, he was sore from shivering. _

_ He was so cold now. He didn’t think he should be, but he wasn’t fighting, so it made sense he was cold again; it felt so much colder than he remembered, though. Maybe he was just out of practice dealing with it- _

“Shiro!”

Shiro fought his way to consciousness and blinked his eyes open. He was cold, shivering hard with it, and  _ wet _ . Why was he wet?

“Oh thank god, you’re awake. Shiro, you with me?”

Shiro got the brief impression of pressure and fleeting warmth against his cheek, and tried turning his head toward it, but he was slow and uncoordinated. Water was dripping from his hair onto his face, his bangs plastered over his forehead and almost in his eyes; he could barely feel it. Blinking to clear more of the water, Hunk’s worried face came into focus.

“W-w-what happ’ned?” Speaking was difficult, his throat felt raw and his chest and head hurt; it didn’t help his teeth were chattering as he shuddered.

Hunk’s brow furrowed. “You don’t remember? That’s...ok, that’s probably to be expected. Not great, but expected. Um, we were chasing that Galra commander from the base. We split up to flank him, and you followed him right onto a sheet of ice.” Hunk winced. “It broke. I think you hit your head on the way in. I was able to pull you out, though.”

Shiro could kind of remember things as Hunk described them, but it was like remembering something from when he was very young, or from a dream; he was unsure how much he was really remembering, and how much was just what Hunk was filling in.

Shiro realized he could see his breath puff in front of his face when he exhaled, and memories from earlier in the day started to rise. They were on Naubos, in the Spiri sector. They’d come in looking for intel on prisoners, still trying to track down Matt and Sam Holt. It was winter in the hemisphere the Galra outpost was in, but Shiro hadn’t thought much of it. Their suits were regulated enough to protect them, generally. Although it turned out a dunk in freezing water was pushing it.

Hunk had reached down and grabbed onto Shiro’s flesh arm, pulling him up to standing before Shiro had finished processing his previous train of thought. Sometimes he forgot how strong Hunk was; he didn’t usually do overt displays of strength, but with how easily he wielded his bayard, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

“We’ve got to get you back to the lion so we can warm you up. This is really bad…”

Shiro tried to get his legs moving to keep up with Hunk as he started walking, but they just didn’t want to cooperate. None of his body did, really. Other than continuing to shiver painfully, Shiro’s body didn’t seem inclined to move much, which was immensely frustrating. Shiro knew enough of basic survival to have figured out that being dunked in ice water in winter wasn’t good; exposure to the air would quickly become a problem, since he seemed to have lost his helmet in his tumble into the water, and he thought he could start to see the shimmers of ice forming in his hair. Hunk was right about getting back to the lion, but there was something he was forgetting, he was sure of it.

He’d later blame it on a major case of brain freeze when he tried to dig his heels in and stop Hunk’s progress, almost bringing the both of them down to the ground as his sudden movement surprised Hunk.

“Wait! Wait...what about...the Galra...what-”

Hunk readjusted his hold on Shiro, and somehow managed both a sympathetic and determined expression at the same time. “He didn’t come back up after he went through the ice.”

“Oh.”

Hunk nodded, seemed to consider something, and nodded again.

“Right. Sorry, Shiro.”

“For what?”

“For this.” Before Shiro could stop him, Hunk shifted his hold and picked Shiro up in a fireman’s carry.

Shiro managed a strangled yelp that morphed into a groan as Hunk got him settled across his shoulders.

“We need to move faster than you can go on your own right now.” Hunk took off at what was admittedly a much faster pace than they’d been managing with Shiro trying to walk. “You can take it out on me in training later, but we’ve gotta move!”

Shiro wasn’t up to much other than just trying to hold on, and he wasn’t even very successful with that; thankfully Hunk was holding on tight enough that it didn’t matter much.

No longer focused on trying to walk, Shiro had the realization he wasn’t shivering as much anymore. He knew that was bad, potentially disastrous, but he was so tired, it was nice not to feel like he was about to shake apart.

Soon the yellow lion came into view. Its mouth opened as they got closer, and Hunk hurried in, setting Shiro down carefully against the front console as the lion’s mouth closed behind them, engines starting to rev up.

Hunk darted off, and was back a moment later with the lion’s first aid kit, digging through it until he found the emergency blanket. He set it aside, and started taking Shiro’s armor off, tossing the pieces aside as they disengaged.

“What...what are you…?”

Hunk grunted as a stubborn pauldron came loose. “We need to get you out of the undersuit to warm you up, which means the armor has to come off first.”

Hunk managed to get the rest of the armor off, and had peeled Shiro out of most of the undersuit when Shiro started shivering again. It started as a tremor, and quickly escalated to full body shudders. Hunk got the emergency blanket wrapped as tightly around Shiro as he could manage, and looked torn.

“It’s...It’s o-ok.” Shiro tried curling up into himself. “You...you need to f-fly.”

Hunk looked doubtful, seeming fully prepared to strip down and try to warm Shiro up himself.

“I’m-” a particularly violent shiver ran through him, and Shiro gritted his teeth, working hard to get his words out clearly.. “I’m  _ fine _ , Hunk, get us going.”

Hunk gave him one last look and then settled in the pilot’s seat and grabbed the controls, calling in to the Castle to have them prep for his and Shiro’s arrival.

Shiro let his head rest back against the console, grimacing as he could start to feel all the aches and pains the cold had been covering, along with the searing burn of heat returning to his frozen extremities. They’d be back at the Castle soon, and everything would be fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaah we're so close to the end, guys. Only the +1 left.   
> It's already partly written, so if it doesn't give me too much trouble, hopefully it'll be up soon.
> 
> As a reminder, I thrive off of comments and kudos, so...ya know. :)
> 
> Come flail about these guys with me on tumblr at [kitkatcabbit](kitkatcabbit.tumblr.com)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, not again.
> 
> Shiro strained against the hard-light cuffs holding him down to the laboratory table. His right arm was dead, refusing to respond to him, and he didn’t have the strength or leverage to get loose.
> 
> The bright purple light overhead almost blinded him, making the shapes moving around him hard to discern, but he knew who they were- the druids and the Galra scientists. The ones who had taken his right arm.
> 
> The table under him started to tilt back until all the blood rushed down to his head, the roar of it in his ears making it difficult to make out what was being said around him. For better or worse, though, he could still catch some of it.
> 
> “Prisoner 117-9875...updated procedure...advanced mechanics...weapon…”

_ God, not again. _

_ Shiro strained against the hard-light cuffs holding him down to the laboratory table. His right arm was dead, refusing to respond to him, and he didn’t have the strength or leverage to get loose. _

_ The bright purple light overhead almost blinded him, making the shapes moving around him hard to discern, but he knew who they were- the druids and the Galra scientists. The ones who had taken his right arm. _

_ The table under him started to tilt back until all the blood rushed down to his head, the roar of it in his ears making it difficult to make out what was being said around him. For better or worse, though, he could still catch some of it. _

_ “Prisoner  _ _ 117-9875...updated procedure...advanced mechanics...weapon…” _

_ Claw-tipped hands, on his left arm, around his wrist and forearm, holding him down as some of the restraints were loosened and a thin strap was fitted around his bicep and cinched painfully tight- a tourniquet. _

_ “NO! No, don’t, you already...you already took one, why…” _

_ A murmur of discussion above him, and a gag was forced between his teeth, cutting off his protests. _

_ No...no god, please, they were going to take the other one, he couldn’t, they COULDN’T, please no, No, **NO** … _

_ A flash of metal on his left, and he watched, horrified, as the scalpel touched down on his arm and- _

Shiro jolted upright with a yell, still halfway between dreaming and awake, and oh god, he couldn’t feel his arm,  _ he couldn’t feel his arm _ -

There was a yelp of pain off to his left, and before he knew it, he’d tumbled off of what he’d been laying on and rolled into a defensive crouch on the floor, looking around wildly for something to fight, right arm humming and active.

A moment went by, then another, and Shiro started to come back to himself, noticing the lack of purple lighting and harsh metal surfaces of the Galra lab. He...he was in the lounge, in the Castle of Lions, not trapped again on a Galra ship. As he tried to breathe through his panic, he could feel pins and needles starting in his left arm; it was still there, it had just fallen asleep.

Looking up and around, Shiro could see all the other paladins scattered around him, looking sleep rumpled but concerned. Keith was on the floor, rubbing at his jaw, though Lance was already moving to help him up. 

“Shiro?”

Shiro startled again, turning toward the sound of Hunk’s voice.

“Shiro, do you know where you are?”

“I...yes. Lounge, in the Castle.”

Shiro was shaking now, all the adrenaline racing around in his system with nowhere to go. He deactivated his arm and fell back hard, pressing his back into the couch he’d fallen asleep on. He curled up, knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He rested his forehead on his knees and took a breath. He tried to stop shaking, but every time he tried, he could swear he felt the straps on him again, could see the flash of a scalpel, and he’d start shaking all over again.

“Shiro, are you ok?”

That was Pidge, voice a lot softer and more careful than she usually was, and Shiro almost answered with his usual response, ‘I’m fine’, or ‘I’m ok’, but that would have been a blatant lie.

Shiro snorted, an unhappy laugh, and shook his head, for once, told the truth.

“No, you know what, I’m really not.”

Shiro looked up at a tentative touch to his shoulder. Keith was knelt by his side, and Shiro flinched at the quickly purpling mark on Keith’s jaw. 

“No, stop that.” Keith settled down next to Shiro, pressing against his side and putting an arm over his shoulders to pull him closer. “It’s ok, Shiro, you didn’t mean to do it. I’m alright, I promise, you didn’t hurt me.”

Shiro lifted his head again enough that he could give Keith an incredulous look, and Keith huffed a laugh. “Ok, so it hurts, but you didn’t  _ harm  _ me. We’ve done worse to each other in sparring and you know it.”

Pidge sat down on Shiro’s other side and rested a hand on his metal arm. Shiro tried to pull his arm away, but she held on.

“It’s ok, Shiro. You won’t hurt us, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

The other paladins crowded in close, Hunk and Lance perching on the couch behind him, and Allura curling up near Shiro’s legs. Coran smiled softly at all of them, and muttered something about getting snacks as he wandered out, lowering the lights as he discreetly wiped at his eyes.

Surrounded by the warmth and strength of his team, Shiro felt safe, protected.

He wasn’t ok, but he would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for 'I'm Fine, I'm Fine, I'm Fine (It's not a problem)'!  
> This is the first thing I've ever posted that wasn't complete at the outset, and I'd like to thank everyone who has read, kudo'sed, and commented. It's wonderful to hear from people what they think.  
> I'm unsure if this series is done or not, or if I'll keep adding things as I write them. I suppose we'll see.  
> If there are any prompts you might have for this series/verse, feel free to send them along in a comment or message, and I'll see what I can do. If you've read this far, you know the sort of thing I like to write. :)  
> As always, feel free to come flail at me about these guys on tumblr. You can find me at kitkatcabbit :)


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